


Can't-Stop-Won't-Stop

by Aussi18



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: A rework of Robin and Regina's first meeting at the farmhouse, where Regina doesn't see the tattoo and then steamy things happen.





	Can't-Stop-Won't-Stop

 

 

 

She tenses - fight or flight immediately kicking in - as he walks toward her, as he gets right up in her space and for a moment, she thinks he might kiss her. But then he’s leaning slightly to her right, reaching behind her for something, and she catches her breath at his nearness. No man has had the audacity to get this close to her in ages, at least those whose hearts were their own, and her own heart begins to _slam-slam-slam_ as her skin raises in gooseflesh, a hot rush surging low in her abdomen, nipples tightening, as her body recognizes his pure maleness in her private proximity. She should move, she should move _him_ , but she’s rooted, still as a statue, painfully aware and wanting to see what his next move is.

He grabs the whiskey from the shelf and they exchange words about the “magical” properties of the spirit. She thinks she mentions something about love potions, but then he’s coming at her again and her breath hitches high and quick, her chest rising to meet his as he reaches above her and suddenly she can’t breathe, can’t think - there is a buzzing in her ears and the smell of forest in her nose and all she can think is _yes yes yes_ and _please_. Their chests brush and she closes her eyes at the sensation, wanting more, wanting him, and then he has turned away from her and is pouring them each a drink and spouting something about the lost year and what she deserves.

He hands her the drink and they clink their glasses in a little toast - the strong alcohol burns as she tips it back fast, opening her throat to save her tongue from the assault; she’s never been a whiskey fan but the Evil Queen is not one to back down from a challenge.

He smiles at her then, this genuine, beautiful smile that reaches his blue eyes and brings out his dimples, and says “Forgive my boldness, Milady, but watching you shoot whiskey is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen”.

She feels her cheeks flush, feels silly from the compliment - it’s a cheesy line and she’s not sure what to do with it, not sure why it has her blushing, so she goes to him, gets unnecessarily close and reaches around him for the bottle, angles her face into his neck and puffs out a hot breath just above the scarf he’s wearing.

It has the effect she wants - his whole body stiffens, shoulders and stance widening in perfect male posture, as if he’s holding himself tight in check. She pours them each another shot, then leans back around in front of him, not giving him back the space she claimed. She’s the Evil Queen, damnit, and if she’s going to feel aroused and tense, then she’s going to do her best to make sure he feels the same.

She hands him his glass, and they are close - _too close_ \- she can’t even raise her glass properly in front of her, their bodies mere inches from touching from chest to hip. His breathing has quickened, and he’s staring at her like he’s starving, like he might pounce and catch her and devour her and it’s all she has in her to give a little knowing smirk right before she tips her head back, elongating her neck on purpose to show it off, as she throws the liquid fire to the back of her throat and closes her eyes to the burn, a little _mmmm_ purposefully escaping her lips at the sensation.

He doesn’t shoot his, just watches her with intensity, and when she moans at the drink his glass hits the floor, doesn’t shatter but makes a large _CLANK_ and suddenly he’s got his hands on her hips and his mouth at her neck - almost, _almost_ _on_ her neck - his hot breath hitting her smooth skin and raising a shiver from her as he moves her back-back-back up against the bookshelf where they had started this little dance.

She lets out a little _Oh!_ when her lower back comes into contact with the shelf and he’s breathing hard, like he’s run forever, his fingers squeezing and flexing on her hip bones, his whole body curled forward around her, as if saying _Mine!_ And it’s not like her, but she finds she likes it, likes his sudden loss of control and his possessiveness, and she can’t understand why.

“I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but if I don’t kiss you right now, I fear I will die with wanting,” he whispers against the soft skin behind her ear, and she feels herself shudder with it, her chest arching toward him of its own accord, and she hears herself whisper “Yes” though she had not made a conscious decision to do so.

His relief for permission only seems to increase his intensity, his body coming flush against hers, his hands dipping inside her open coat and skimming up her sides to her waist, up further, nearing the sides of her breasts and he moans out a “My god” when she doesn’t stop him from continuing his journey north.

His hands reach her shoulders, his hips pressed tightly to hers, pinning her against the shelf and his hands run the length of her collarbone. One hand moves more central and lightly grasps the silky loop of her royal blue scarf. She sucks a breath in, she’s paranoid with the best of them and it’s a prime opportunity with which he could strangle her, but he immediately senses her shift in emotion, and he slowly pulls the scarf forward, his fingers purposefully trailing across the exposed skin of her chest, and as he makes direct eye contact he whispers, “Never” with a knowing look.

He lets the scarf fall off to the side, the slide of the silky fabric against her neck and chest heightening her arousal, the fear amping her up, his reassurance bringing liquid warmth to her body. She knows, _feels,_ that she is already slick and hot and wet for him if only he’ll continue his slow seduction.

His left hand goes back to her hip and circles around to her back, the fingers of his right hand splaying across her chest right above her heart. She tenses, immediately furious with him for bringing it up, for his nonverbal and unknowing reminder of the status of her black heart. She’s shaking with restrained violence, vision tunneling, flames starting to jump in one palm, and suddenly she wants to throw him off of her, but he must see it, feel it, because in a flash his hand jumps to the back of her neck and he gives her head a little jerk, her eyes snapping to his, and he rasps, “Not yet - you promised”. Her eyes widen with his audacity and suddenly his lips land hard on hers, roughly grasping, sliding and slipping against hers, his stubble scraping against her and she feels herself come alive, her own lips pressing just as hard into his. She opens her mouth before his tongue has the chance to ask, pushes hers into his mouth and drinks in the whiskey and flavor that must be _him_ before he is pushing her tongue back with his, it’s his turn to invade her mouth and as he flicks the muscle against the roof of her mouth she forgets her anger and just lives in the feel of him.

She’s got her hands around his neck, framing him, pulling him closer and closer and she knows she’s going to need to breathe, going to have to stop kissing him eventually, but for the life of her she does **not** want to. He’s licking at her lips and pressing deep into her mouth, and she envisions him pressing deep into her cunt, and when she moans with the thought of it she inadvertently breaks the kiss. He’s not stopping though, he shifts, placing wet, sucking kisses at her cheek, her jaw, shifts her earing with his lips and pulls her earlobe into his mouth, letting his teeth draw gently against it as it slips through. Then he’s on her neck, sucking and scraping his perfect teeth along the curve of it, and she can’t take it, can’t hold back anymore, she NEEDS him, needs the intimacy and feel of a lover’s touch. It’s been far, far too long and she’s not strong enough to resist it anymore.

Her hands run across his chest and he’s deliciously hard and tight beneath his shirt. She wants to feel his skin, so she tugs at his scarf and the buttons on his shirt before she gives up and pulls hard, buttons pinging off and flying in every direction. She doesn’t care, and apparently neither does he, because he’s groaning and saying “Yes, Regina, oh god”, and sucking on her neck and chest in a way she knows she’s going to have to apply concealer for the next week.

Her hands smooth across his skin, he’s got a light spackling of hair and she traces several scars, She feels connected to him in this way - god knows her skin tells a similar tale, and she drops her mouth to his chest, kissing, scraping her teeth against him, licking his nipples and trailing her fingernails softly across his abdomen, which makes him gasp and say, “Fuuuck,” and she knows she could never tire of hearing him say that _that way_.

He’s shoving her jacket off, down her arms and it gets caught between her and the bookcase, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because in the next second he’s smoothed his hands down her backside, grasped her by the thighs, and has lifted her up onto the small ledge. Her thighs part and he’s instantly between them, shimmying the hem of her dress up as he goes, and her kegels clench, anticipating, wanting, needing him there. Her clit is throbbing and swollen, she needs him to touch her _there_ and she’s had enough foreplay; she’s hot and bothered and sooo ready for him.

He seems to agree with her because as he pulls her dress up his next action is to pull her leggings down, and she kicks off one boot so he can get them half off her. Then he’s up against her, grinding his clothed cock against her naked sex, her juices coating the front of his trousers, and he’s pulling down the neckline of her dress, cupping and squeezing her breasts as he exposes each one to the cool air. He pulls them up and out of the cups, her taut nipples over-sensitive and aching for attention, and he drops his mouth to her right nipple, suckling and rolling it with his tongue, his hand reaching up to grasp and flick quickly over the left. She drops her head back and moans, “Yessss, _mmmh!_ more,” to him and he doesn’t hesitate, drops his left hand between them and finds her dripping wet folds, discovers her lack of panties, and it’s his turn to moan. He sucks a breath in hard as his middle and ring fingers slide along her - she’s so wet it takes no time to coat his fingers - he rubs quick circles around her swollen, sensitive clit and she’s squirming now, her hips moving against him, and when he slowly sinks two fingers into her she groans out an “Oh god” at the same time he does.

His fingers move smoothly inside her, and he curls them just enough that he’s hitting _that_ spot without her needing to guide him, his palm rubbing against her clit and she’s got her hands in his hair, her lips on his, sucking on his bottom lip and biting down hard, letting her teeth drag across it before shoving her tongue into his mouth as she starts to ride his hand. He groans and growls when she nips him, thrusts his hips against her, rattling the contents of the bookshelf with the force. His other hand is smoothing around her back, pulling her tight to him, rubbing up and back and across and it feels _so good_ to be touched like this that she can’t help it when her hands fall to his pants to blindly undo the button and zip.

She pauses, gets caught up in the sensation of his calloused fingers working her, and feels herself spiraling upward, tightening, tightening. She gets even more excited when she realizes - knows _for certain_ that she’s going to come - she’s going to come so hard today. Her nipples ache and peak and swell with her pleasure, her swollen sex feels so good with his fingers inside her, and she suddenly wants _more._ She slips her hand inside his pants, grasping him through his boxer briefs, then she’s shoved his pants and underwear down his hips and she’s stroking his long thick cock, her excitement at the size and heft of him causing her to clench on his fingers.

He’s whispering to her now, talking right into her ear, licking and sucking on her in between sentences, and she can’t help it, she shivers and gets even more turned on by his filthy words - “Oh my god, you’re so fucking wet” _suck_ \- “Been wet for me since we came in here haven’t you?” - _kiss -_ “I’m gonna make you come so hard, you’re so fucking beautiful” - _nip_ \- “Christ alive you’re gorgeous” - _bite -_ “Are you gonna come for me, my queen? Wanna make you feel so good.”

She moans, gasps out an embarrassingly high pitched, “Yessss,” and then he’s pulling his fingers out of her, rubbing her clit in circles, hard and fast, rubbing-rubbing-rubbing and she arches under the pleasure, her internal muscles clamping on nothing, but before she can come he stops and she lets out a growl of disappointment. But he says in a rush, “Gotta taste you,” then drops to his knees and his hot mouth and wet tongue are running over her slick folds, his lips are sucking at her clit, and she lets out an “Oh god!” in surprise. He’s slurping at her like a heathen and his hands are spreading her thighs _so_ wide, and he’s shameless, licking her from perineum to clit and back, and she’s shuddering so hard with want that she’s very nearly begging. His tongue slides through her folds, laps at her and swirls then dips inside of her, fucking her, and she wants, craves, _needs_ more.

“Robin” she gasps out, one hand in his hair, one on the ledge beneath her, and he lifts his eyes to hers, his tongue _flick-flick-flicking_ over her clit, and it takes her a second to come back to her senses, the vision before her so erotic she can’t think. She says, “Fuck me, oh god, fuck me,” and it’s an order, a command - her voice is strong, if breathy - and he groans as he gets up, murmuring, “Yes, my queen, my Regina”. He locks eyes with her as he says it, and her black heart spasms at the unfamiliar sentiment, not quite knowing what to do with it. But then he hooks one of her knees over his arm, grasps his cock, rubs it through her dripping sex, and firmly slides in.

Her hands grasp his shoulders as her back arches with the sensation, and she’s breathing so hard she’s almost hyperventilating, it feels so _so_ right and he’s stretching her and nudging all the right places. He’s moaning when he slides his hands to her ass, spreads and grasps her cheeks firmly and slides her forward in a quick motion that has him buried in her to the hilt and she moans a sharp, “Ahhh god yes,” at the feel. There’s no time for stopping, for savoring, she needs him to get her off and she wants to get _him_ off too - something she can’t say she’s wanted every time she’s done this - and this is the thought that has her moving, hitching her legs up around his waist and rising against him as he draws back, then slides smoothly in again, not too hard but just enough to let her adjust to his thick length.

They’re moving then, slowly at first, learning the cues and feel of each other through this most intimate connection, and as they find a rhythm Regina’s heart beats faster, faster, faster. This is by far the best she’s ever had, he’s passionate and hot and honest and hard, and she drops her head back, closes her eyes, and for the first time in _years,_ she lets herself just **feel.** His lips are on her throat, kissing, licking, leaving wet smears of his saliva across her skin as he pistons in and out, in and out, in and out, his balls slapping against her ass as he thrusts in deep and catches her sensitive spot on each drive.

“Fuck, Christ, Regina” he pants to her, squeezing her ass and sliding one hand between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing. “You’re so beautiful, I can’t stop - won’t _ever_ stop, darling you’re so perfect”, and then “So wet babe, you’re dripping all over me - you're so bloody tight and hot and it’s all for me, isn’t it, Love?”

She can’t help it, his cock and his hands and his words all ratchet her up, and she can't think but she’s agreeing with him eagerly, moaning out ,“Yes - _mmmmh!_ \- all for you - _oh god!_ \- only you!” Robin doubles his efforts, fucking into her tight sex harder, faster, the contents of the bookshelf rattling and falling randomly all around them as he pounds into her.

His thumb rubs-rubs-rubs against her clit and he pistons in-out-in-out-in-out as she spirals - up-up-up-Up-UP - and then she crashes haaaard over the edge, her hips losing rhythm as she spasms and spasms around him, moaning long and loud into the room, clenching so tight on him he’s gripping her hips **hard** and pulling himself into her, fighting her inner muscles as he continues to drive, heightening and prolonging her orgasm as she gasps and moans and writhes on him, until finally she starts coming down. Then he’s thrusting once, twice, three more times as he lets out a rough, thickly accented, “Fuuuuck ahhhh yeahhhh,” and he’s coming inside her, spurting hard and spilling into her as her muscles continue to squeeze around him in aftershocks. His hands grip her ass and pull her pelvis tight to him as he buries himself as deep inside of her as he can and fills, and fills, _and fills_ her with his come. And normally she doesn't allow this, never allows this - hasn't allowed it since she once _had_ to allow it, but she's too caught up in the moment, in her euphoria, in _him_ , and for the first time ever, she finds she doesn't mind, finds she's actually enjoying the feel of the hot gush of him filling her, and she absolutely refuses to consider what the hell that means.

He holds her close, intimately, sweetly, hands stroking her back and shoulders as they slowly come down from their mutual release, gasping and panting and sweating, his nose buried in her hair, lips against her neck murmuring _beautiful_ , and _stunning_ , and _incredible,_ and _Regina_.

He holds her until their breathing returns to somewhat normal, then he draws back and kisses her with an intensity she didn’t expect. She expected regret, embarrassment, an urgency to leave, but he takes his time, his tongue exploring her mouth again, fingers smoothing through her thick, dark hair, his softening cock still inside her. She gives in to the kiss, gives it back to him, rubs her hands across his back, until he releases her lips, rubs the bridge of his nose against hers and presses their foreheads together.

“My god, Regina, that was incredible,” he says softly, and with mischief in his eyes he adds, “Tell me we can do it again.” She can’t help it when a giggle slips out - dear god an actual giggle - but he wants her, _her_ , even knowing she’s the Evil Queen, and then she’s grinning and before she can answer his eyes go sincere and he says, “I stand corrected, your smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Her grin instantly widens, her chest and cheeks flushing with the compliment as he stares at her.

He brushes his fingers through her hair, trails them down her neck and smooths his palms down her arms, then finally steps back, his cock slipping out of her, and there is the sound of his hot semen dripping from inside of her onto the floor, but they ignore it, righting their clothes and stealing glances at each other all the while.

Regina has no idea what to say - she wanted it, wanted this, but she doesn’t know this man and she should never have let it get this far. But she’s having a hard time regretting it when he very gently slips her boot back on her foot, zips up the side, then strokes his hand slowly up her calf to her thigh, before standing and pulling her against him again. He circles his arms around her waist and she finds her hands coming to rest on his thick biceps.

“You don’t have to say anything now, but I would very much enjoy seeing you again, your Majesty, in _any_ capacity you’ll allow,” he says with a soft smile, looking deep into her eyes. She averts her gaze, tucks her hair behind her ear, certain it's a bad idea but not ready to admit it. He squeezes her a little, causing her to look up into his face, and he kisses her mouth softly, her cheek, the side of her head, nuzzles into her hair. She smiles at him, a genuine, real smile, and then they separate, doing up their coats as the reality of the situation slowly comes back to them. As he pulls on his jacket, the cuff rides up, and she sees it - the lion tattoo. She’s stunned, can’t comprehend what it means - _knows what it means_ \- but for some reason she’s not panicking, she’s not breaking down in fear of what he now means to her. But she needs time to think, needs a clear head to figure out her next step, and she’d prefer it to be when his semen isn’t still seeping out of her.

As she crosses the room to make her exit, she suddenly remembers she had a scarf, and she turns to see him sliding the royal blue fabric into his jacket pocket. A cocky grin crosses his face and he says, “You can have it back when you let me know your decision.”

She smirks, raises an eyebrow at him before she turns away, throwing over her shoulder a, “We’ll see, Thief,” then disappears in a cloud of purple smoke.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.  
> I don't have a beta, so if you're interested, let me know.


End file.
